Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 
Getty  Research  Institute 


https://archive.org/details/discoursecommemoOOwool 


J 


DISCOURSE 


COMMEMORATIVE  OF 


REV,  WILLIAM  A,  LARNED, 

PROFESSOR  OF  RHETORIC  AND  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 
IN  TALE  COLLEGE. 


BY 

THEODORE  D.  WOOLSEY, 

PRESIDENT  OF  TALE  COLLEGE. 


DELIVERED  IN  THE  CENTER  CHURCH,  NEW  HAVEN,  EEB.  6,  1862. 


NEW  HAVEN: 

PRINTED  BT  E.  HAYES,  426  CHAPEL  ST. 

1862. 


DISCOURSE. 


I.  Corinthians  xv.  56,  57.— The  sting  of  death  is  sin;  and  the 

STRENGTH  OF  SIN  IS  THE  LAW.  BUT  THANKS  BE  TO  GOD  WHICH 

GIVETH  US  THE  YICTORT,  THROUGH  OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST. 

It  is  no  empty  or  exaggerated  metaphor  when 
death  is  spoken  of  as  having  a sting.  Insidious 
in  its  approaches,  attacking  every  age  and  con- 
dition of  life  without  distinction,  severing  the  ten- 
derest  ties,  interrupting  the  best  laid  plans,  de- 
stroying the  fondest  hopes,  bitter  often  in  its 
manner  of  assault,  leaving  sorrowful  memories 
in  the  survivors,  dreaded  by  the  best  and  sub- 
mitted to  because  it  cannot  be  escaped, — why 
should  not  this  bitter  thing  be  compared  to  a 
scorpion  or  some  venomous  reptile  that  can  hide 
in  the  dust,  bite  the  sleeper  or  wayfarer  before 
he  knows  of  its  presence,  and  then  keep  its 
fount  of  poison  open  for  some  fresh  victim. 


4 

Death  is  by  the  consent  of  mankind  a bitter 
thing,  but  in  what  consists  its  bitterness?  ‘O 
death  where  is  thy  sting?’ 

The  sting  of  death  does  not  consist  in  its  gen- 
eral painfulness . There  are  painful  deaths  and 
there  are  painless  deaths.  Some  suffer,  indeed, 
as  if  soul  and  body  struggled  hard  against  the 
force  which  is  parting  them,  and  others  lie  down 
in  death  as  an  infant  lies  down  to  sleep.  Yet 
if  the  dying  person  could  analyze  his  thoughts, 
and  assign  his  feelings  to  their  various  causes,  we 
probably  should  not  find  that  the  mere  article  of 
death,  or  the  pangs  going  before  it  were  more 
painful  than  many  of  the  smaller  ills  of  life,  which 
have  in  them  but  little  of  bitterness. 

Nor  has  the  bitterness  and  sting  of  death  much 
to  do  with  the  manner  of  it.  To  the  human  being 
who  is  summoned  away,  the  mode  of  his  leaving 
the  world  is,  in  itself  considered,  a thing  of  minor 
importance.  Death  seems  to  have  a sting  for 
instance  when  it  comes  suddenly  and  is  so  ven- 
omous that  life  yields  in  a moment.  But  this 
exists  in  the  imagination  or  feelings  of  survivors, 
it  is  nothing  to  the  sufferer  himself.  It  is  an 


5 

awful  thing,  when  a sailboat  is  passing  along 
with  peaceful  winds  and  under  a fair  sky,  if  one 
of  the  crew  of  friends  loses  his  balance,  falls 
overboard  and  is  hopelessly  engulphed  in  the 
waters ; but  they  who  have  been  saved  in  the 
moment  of  death  from  drowning  tell  us  that  they 
had  suffered  little  pain,  and  they  who  have  been 
resuscitated,  after  insensibility  came  on,  speak  of 
their  state  as  one  of  pleasant  dreams.  So  too 
when  the  man  of  contemplation  in  a solitary  walk 
feels  the  deadly  attack  and  in  a moment  becomes 
insensible,  how  short  the  pain,  how  brief  the 
struggle,  compared  with  that  death-bed  where 
death  and  life  are  contending  long  days  with 
one  another.  Yet  even  here,  when  we  think 
how  much  may  be  done  to  mitigate  pain  by 
affection  and  skill,  we  must  decide  that  the  pain 
itself  is  no  more  than  what  often  follows  a wound 
or  accident  from  which  no  death  is  apprehended. 

Nor  again  does  the  sting  of  death  consist  in 
mere  risk  and  uncertainty  as  to  the  future . There 
are  many  risks  wThich  men  rather  enjoy  than 
shrink  from.  There  are  speculations  and  hazards 
where  excitement  is  the  chief  pleasure,  and  as- 


6 

surance  beforehand  would  take  away  the  zest. 
Man  would  be  less  happy  if  he  could  see  his 
pathway  all  along  from  infancy  to  youth,  from 
youth  to  manhood,  even  if  that  pathway  were 
one  of  light  and  peace.  The  soul  is  made  to 
venture,  just  as  it  is  made  to  trust  and  hope. 
Even  hope  implies  the  existence  of  a power 
which  can  turn  our  hopes  into  confusion.  It  is 
not  the  question  concerning  the  risk,  considered 
as  mere  risk,  which  agitates  many,  but  the  ques- 
tion of  the  moral  state  of  the  soul.  The  first 
emigrants  to  a new  land  are  not  much  disturbed 
by  the  risk  upon  the  sea  or  the  risk  after  landing. 
There  may  be  even  high  enjoyment  amid  the 
dashing  waves  and  in  the  novelties  of  a strange 
land  and  a strange  life. 

Nor  yet  is  it  the  separation  principally  in  which 
the  sting  of  death  consists.  Here,  indeed,  there 
is  bitterness  in  a degree — the  sting  attacks  us  in 
a tender  point.  But  how  many  emigrants  have 
bidden  a long  farewell  to  their  native  land  in  or- 
der to  die  among  strangers,  how  many  explorers, 
through  the  love  of  adventure  or  scientific  zeal, 
have  wandered  away  from  home  and  friends 


7 

half  their  lives,  how  many  have  torn  themselves 
from  father  and  mother,  and  gone  to  preach 
the  gospel  among  the  heathen, — how  many 
have  consented  to  such  separations  and  lived 
happy  lives  afterwards.  For  affection  needs  not 
the  sight  and  sound  of  those  who  are  dear, 
but  they  are  with  us  in  thought.  There  is 
no  separation  of  true  friends. 

No  ! the  sting  of  death  lies  not  principally 
in  the  painfulness  of  death,  nor  in  the  manner 
of  it,  nor  in  the  risk  we  run,  nor  in  the  sepa- 
rations which  it  forces  upon  us.  The  sting  of 
death  is  sin.  It  is  the  consciousness  of  having 
a character  which  does  not  fit  us  for  the  pres- 
ence of  a holy  God,  of  having  sin  in  our  pur- 
poses, aims,  hopes,  lives,  that  makes  death  fear- 
ful. The  innocent  child  suffers  a little,  but  there 
is  no  sting  in  death  to  him,  for  he  is  conscious 
of  no  evil  impulses  : evil  is  latent  in  him  and 
his  eye  has  not  been  opened  to  see  the  govern- 
ment of  God.  Man  in  a state  of  purity,  with- 
out a revelation,  could  feel  nothing  in  death. 
What  dread  is  there  surrounding  the  unknown 
world  to  him  who  has  no  sources  of  fear  within 


8 

himself?  Fear  was  put  into  us  to  guard  us 
against  evils  of  the  actual  present,  not  to  excite 
a dread  of  a possible  hereafter,  so  that  the 
unsinning  man  we  have  supposed  would  not 
fear  death,  or  fear  what  comes  after  death,  but 
rather,  with  trust  and  hope,  would  lie  down  to 
die  as  he  would  lie  down  upon  his  bed  at  night. 

But  it  is  otherwise  in  a world  of  sinners, 
although  no  revelation  of  God’s  wrath  against 
sin  may  have  been  made  to  them.  In  every 
race  of  heathen  men  there  is  a dread  of  spirits, 
because  they  feel  themselves  to  be  deserving  of 
punishment.  What  is  the  meaning  of  those  fear- 
ful tortures  with  which  the  Greek  imagination 
made  the  world  of  darkness  more  dreadful,  save 
an  obscure  impression  that  there  is  a divorce 
between  God  and  man.  Man  feels  that  he  can- 
not rely  on  God’s  justice,  for  he  is  a sinner 
without  a revelation  of  mercy.  This  sense  of 
sin  it  is  which  every  where  has  brought  men  all 
their  lifetime  into  bondage  to  the  fear  of  death, 
which  has  peopled  the  world  of  faith  and  im- 
agination with  lost  souls,  which  would  create  to 
itself  a world  of  misery,  were  there  none  on  hand. 


9 

But  the  Apostle  goes  on  to  say  that  the  strength 
of  sin  is  the  law . What  does  he  intend  by  these 
words  ? 

He  means  in  the  first  place  that  the  soul  in 
a state  of  sin,  when  the  obligations  of  the  law 
are  made  known  to  it,  is  far  from  submitting 
willingly  to  the  control  of  the  heavenly  rule.  It 
comes  athwart  his  desires,  he  chafes  against  it, 
in  the  struggle  the  desires  grow  stronger  and 
the  temporal  good  which  is  forbidden  appears 
more  precious,  and  so  the  law  which  was  or- 
dained for  life  is  found  to  be  unto  death.  Hu- 
man nature,  as  yet  unreconciled  to  God,  opposes 
the  curb  which  he  puts  on  it,  and  in  its  oppo- 
sition renders  desire  intenser,  and  sin  stronger. 
Thus  the  proportions  of  sin  are  enlarged,  its 
virulence, — its  sting  is  increased  by  the  law. 

And  he  may  mean  secondly  that  by  the  law 
the  soul  becomes  aware  of  sin,  and  therefore 
of  condemnation.  An  Indian  of  our  wilds  in 
the  darkness  of  nature  has  little  sense  of  sin, 
because,  moral  being  as  he  is,  there  is  no  light 
shining  on  him  from  the  pure  and  holy  source 
of  illumination.  Death  therefore  is  not  very 


2 


10 

bitter  to  him,  he  looks  into  it  with  no  profound 
anxiety,  no  questionings  of  himself,  no  suspicions 
that  all  is  not  right.  Let  the  law  of  perfect 
love  and  holiness  come  nigh  him,  and  hence- 
forth he  is  another  kind  of  man.  Sin  has  now 
new  dimensions : he  measures  it  by  God’s  char- 
acter and  God’s  command,  and  by  the  vastness 
of  God’s  moral  kingdom.  Measuring  it  so,  he 
condemns  himself  and  is  afraid  to  meet  his 
Judge.  The  strength  of  sin  is  by  the  law  ! 
Who  would  be  much  afraid  to  die  but  for  sin? 

But  thanks  he  to  God , says  the  Apostle,  there 
is  something  that  takes  away  the  sting  of  death, 
that  gives  to  us  who  believe  that  victory  which 
death  always  gained  before.  We  are  conquer- 
ors, yea,  ‘more  than  conquerors,  through  him 
that  loved  us.’ 

How  does  Christ  give  us  this  victory  ? First, 
by  delivering  us  from  condemnation.  ‘We  are 
saved  from  wrath  through  him.’  ‘ We  have  re- 
demption through  his  blood,  even  the  forgive- 
ness of  our  sins  according  to  the  riches  of  his 
grace.’  The  salvation  must  be  as  great  as  Christ 
can  make  it,  must  be  proportioned  to  the  sense 


11 

of  sin,  and  to  the  fear  of  condemnation,  which 
grow  up  together,  the  former  increasing  the 
strength  of  the  latter  so  that  every  new  dis- 
covery of  our  sin  shows  also  the  fearfulness  of 
the  condemnation. 

But,  Secondly , Christ  gives  this  victory  through 
his  Spirit  helping  us  to  believe  the  Gospel.  We 
hear  the  offer  of  forgiveness  and  without  it  would 
listen  to  no  message  from  God : God’s  justice 
would  drive  us  from  his  face.  But  something 
more  is  wanting.  Fear  must  be  overcome,  so  that 
we  may  cast  ourselves  in  hope  upon  Christ,  and 
be  willing  to  commit  all  our  interests  into  his 
hands.  The  love  of  sin  must  be  overcome,  so 
that  we  shall  feel  that  nothing  is  salvation  which 
does  not  save  us  from  our  sins.  Our  desires 
and  purposes  must  aim  at  a life  of  love  and 
holiness.  Then  will  hope — a hope  that  maketh 
not  ashamed — arise  in  our  souls,  according  to 
a law  of  our  nature,  and  we  shall  rejoice  in 
the  hope  of  the  glory  of  God.  We  shall  be 
persuaded  that  ‘ death — will  not  separate  us  from 
the  love  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord.’ 

Then,  Thirdly , Christ  gives  us  the  victory  over 


12 

death  by  leading  us  onward  in  a holy  life.  The 
spirit  of  heaven  being  begun  in  us  here, — how- 
ever imperfectly, — will  tend  to  raise  in  our  minds 
the  value  of  salvation,  to  perpetuate  hope,  to 
qualify  us  for  heaven,  to  throw  our  interests 
more  forward  into  that  world,  and  to  aid  our 
courage  when  any  enemy  of  our  peace  alarms 
us.  Becoming  more  and  more  united  to  God, 
we  are  not  much  afraid  of  any  calamity  : death, 
which  was  so  appalling  when  we  received  the 
law  only  and  not  the  Gospel,  has  now  lost  its 
terrors  in  a degree,  for  we  are  in  the  hands  of 
a covenant  Father.  There  are,  indeed,  Christians 
natively  timid  who  will  always  remain  so,  but 
even  these  amid  their  fears  and  their  uncertainty 
in  regard  to  their  own  spiritual  state,  generally 
have  more  hope  and  less  fear  than  they  imagine. 
And  there  are  others  of  a sanguine  temper,  who, 
although  alarmed  formerly  in  their  state  of  sin  by 
the  prospect  of  death,  can  now  look  forward  to 
it  with  serenity,  yea,  with  joy,  ‘who  have  a 
desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ,  which  is 
far  better.’ 

Finally , Christ  often  secures  us  the  victory  by 


13 

giving  us  grace  to  die.  This  is  the  last  help 
before  we  leave  the  world.  In  a certain  sense 
there  is  nothing  in  this  grace  that  is  peculiar 
and  unlike  the  grace  which  enables  us  to  be 
thankful  or  forgiving  or  submissive.  And  per- 
haps some  have  been  so  schooled  by  trials,  and 
by  that  experience  which  worketh  hope,  that 
they  need  no  peculiar  strength  for  this  last 
great  act  of  our  human  life.  But  there  are 
others,  contemplative,  desponding,  doubtful  con- 
cerning themselves,  who  look  forward  to  this 
goal  with  an  apprehension  from  which  a kind 
Savior  who  has  their  peace  and  welfare  in  his 
hands  will  relieve  them : they  will  generally  find 
that  the  great  enemy,  when  he  draws  near  them, 
is  without  a sting ; and  they  will  be  enabled  to 
enter  another  life  with  an  act  of  faith  like  that 
with  which  they  entered  first  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven. 

Who  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  May  we  not  lay  stress  here  on 
the  present  tense  ‘ who  giveth .’  It  is  not  in  all 
respects  nor  principally  a future  victory,  it  is 
already  begun,  or  rather  at  every  stage  there  is 


14 

a new  contest  and  a new  victory.  If  the  be- 
liever had  died  just  after  first  receiving  Christ  into 
his  heart,  the  victory  would  have  been  gained 
already.  ‘Verily  I say  unto  thee  to  day  shalt 
thou  be  with  me  in  paradise.’  Or  if  in  the  early 
stages  of  his  Christian  life  God  had  no  more 
work  for  him  to  do  here,  or  better  employment 
above,  he  would  have  been  a conqueror  over 
death,  with  that  armor  which  the  Spirit  can  give 
to  the  feeblest.  Faith  then  in  all  its  progress  is 
victory  over  death.  Nay,  the  last  contest  may 
be  less  severe  than  many  of  those  struggles 
with  himself  and  with  sin  through  which  the 
believer  has  already  passed.  There  are  worse 
trials  by  much  in  this  world,  for  the  Christian, 
than  to  die. 

And  if  so,  it  is  of  no  special  importance  for 
the  Christian  himself  how  he  dies.  Friends  may 
be  cheered  by  his  last  moments,  they  may  re- 
member with  consolation  how  they  showed  him 
their  soothing  love, — but  as  for  him,  what  mat- 
ters it  how  or  where  or  when  he  dies,  seeing 
he  has  been  gaining  victories  over  sin,  the  sting 
of  death,  and  therefore  over  death  itself,  ever 


since  he  believed.  What  if  reason  leave  him 
in  his  last  sickness  and  his  brain  rove  over  a 
world  of  fantasies  without  being  awake  to  the 
reality  that  is  upon  him  1 He  has  gained  the 
victory  already.  What  if  he  fall  insensible  on 
the  cold  ground  with  no  friend  by  ? Is  not  his 
Lord  there  1 Would  he  choose  any  other  way 
of  going  to  God  ? Shall  we  wish  any  thing 
better  to  him  than  his  covenant  God  has  or- 
dered 1 Shall  not  all  things  work  together  for 
his  good  ? 

My  friends,  we  are  met  together  to  honor  and 
mourn  over  one  who  has  suddenly  and  in  an 
instant  been  called  away  from  wife,  home,  rela- 
tives, college  friends  and  pupils,  a happy  life, 
pleasant  employments  and  a world  of  probation. 
He  could  utter  no  word,  nor  even  by  mute  sign 
point  to  the  skies  in  token  of  his  hope.  Yet  we 
believe  that  death  had  no  sting  for  him,  that  he 
had  gained  victories  over  death  ever  since  he 
believed,  that  he  needed  no  long  confronting  with 
death  in  order  to  get  ready.  We  trust  that  he 
was  ripe  for  God’s  presence.  Let  us  look  at  his 


16 

life  for  a few  moments,  and  while  we  notice  its 
leading  events  and  traits,  let  us  follow  that  stream 
of  religious  character,  which  began  to  flow  heaven- 
ward some  thirty  years  ago. 

William  Augustus  Larned  was  born  June 
23,  1806,  in  the  township  of  Thompson,  in  this 
State,  which  borders  on  Massachusetts  and 
Rhode  Island.  The  first  progenitor  of  the  fam- 
ily in  this  country,  William  Larned,  came  over 
in  the  colony  led  by  John  Winthrop,  in  1630, 
and  was  the  first  member  admitted  into  the 
church  at  Charlestown.  Subsequently — in  1642 
— he  settled  at  Woburn,  and  from  him,  through 
his  son  Isaac,  and  his  grandsons  Isaac  and  Be- 
noni,  respectively  of  Framingham  and  Sherburne, 
Mass.,  all  of  the  name  of  Learned  or  Larned 
in  the  United  States  have  descended.  The  head 
of  the  Connecticut  branch,  Deacon  William 
Learned,  a son  of  the  second  Isaac,  was  one  of 
the  original  proprietors  and  first  inhabitants  of 
Thompson,  then  a parish  of  Killingly,  where  he 
settled  in  1708.  His  grandson,  Gen.  Daniel 
Larned,  a very  active  and  useful  citizen,  after 
serving  through  the  war  of  the  Revolution  as 


17 

an  officer  of  one  of  the  Connecticut  regiments, 
repeatedly  represented  his  town  in  the  State 
Legislature,  and,  as  a member  of  the  Conven- 
tion of  1788,  bore  a part  in  the  adoption  of 
the  Federal  Constitution.  His  son  George,  the 
father  of  Professor  Larned  and  a graduate  of 
Brown  University  of  the  year  1792,  was  a law- 
yer by  profession,  and  resided  in  his  native 
town,  where  he  died  in  1858. 

William  Augustus  Larned  entered  Yale  Col- 
lege, a bright,  modest  and  virtuous  boy,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Sophomore  year  in  1823,  and 
was  graduated  with  honor  in  1826.  The  next 
two  years  were  spent  in  teaching  school  in 
Salisbury,  North  Carolina.  In  1828  he  accepted 
an  appointment  to  the  office  of  Tutor  in  Yale 
College,  which  he  resigned  in  1831.  Near  the 
end  of  his  Tutorship,  and  during  the  great  re- 
vival of  1831,  his  attention  was  first  called  to 
the  supreme  importance  of  religion.  When  he 
came  to  college  he  was,  although  trained  re- 
ligiously by  his  stepmother,  a thoughtless  boy, 
and  as  his  mind  grew  he  began  to  think  that 
many  of  the  pretences  to  religion  were  delu- 


18 

sions,  until  by-and-by  he  fell  into  doubts  con- 
cerning Christianity  itself.  Yet,  as  he  has  men- 
tioned to  his  friends,  the  preaching  of  Dr.  Fitch 
did  him  great  good,  for  such  exhibitions  and 
such  defences  of  the  Gospel  were  too  strong 
for  his  honest  and  logical  mind  to  resist.  But 
no  deep  alteration  in  his  character  and  his  life 
occurred  until  that  great  revival,  which  per- 
vaded most  parts  of  the  Northern  States,  and 
bore  abundant  and  hopeful  fruits  at  Yale  Col- 
lege. Here,  while  his  fellow  tutors,  Pettingell, 
a man  of  the  rarest  promise,  and  Bushnell, 
now  an  illustrious  name,  were  turning  their  eyes 
towards  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  he  too  be- 
stowed on  this  great  subject  of  personal  religion 
his  earnest  and  serious  attention.  The  result 
was  that  without  that  intense  feeling  which  some 
manifest  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  service  of 
God,  and  in  a solemn  covenant  engaged  to  be 
a follower  of  Christ. 

Of  that  revival  he  thus  speaks,  the  year  after 
in  a tribute  to  his  friend  Pettingell,  who  had 
died  just  after  leaving  the  Tutorship.  “The 
certainty  that  the  Spirit  of  God  was  striving 


19 

in  the  hearts  of  many  around  them  filled  the 
most  insensible  with  awe.  The  order  and  still- 
ness which  prevailed  rendered  the  whole  place 
sacred.  It  was  such  order  as  men  observe 
who  are  engaged  in  sober  realities.  It  was 
the  silence  of  those  who  are  deciding  upon  in- 
terests as  enduring  as  eternity.  With  what  feel- 
ings did  the  frequent  sound  of  the  bell  invi- 
ting to  the  place  of  worship,  fill  the  mind  ! With 
what  thrilling  interest  was  it  heard  that  this  and 
that  friend  and  companion  were  rejoicing  with  a 
joy  they  had  never  known  before.” 

The  new  views  of  life  and  new  religious  im- 
pressions awakened  on  this  occasion  led  him  to 
enquire  anew  what  work  God  had  for  him,  and 
whether  his  divine  Master  would  not  have  him 
preach  the  Gospel.  He  had  chosen  the  study  of 
law,  had  during  his  leisure  hours  in  North  Car- 
olina and  afterwards  made  some  considerable  ad- 
vances in  the  necessary  reading,  and  seemed  to 
himself  both  then  and  since  to  have  an  especial 
aptitude  for  that  profession.  But  now,  from  a 
sense  of  duty  and  in  accordance  with  the  ad- 
vice of  friends,  especially  of  Dr.  Taylor,  he  gave 


20 

himself  up  to  the  study  of  theology,  for  the  work 
of  the  ministry. 

The  feelings  which  he  entertained  in  thus 
changing  his  career  may  be  learned  from  what 
he  writes  of  his  friend  Pettingell,  who  had  al- 
tered his  plan  of  life  in  the  same  way,  and  at 
the  beginning  of  his  theological  studies,  into 
which  he  entered  with  all  his  ardor  and  intel- 
lectual power,  was  cut  down  by  an  untimely 
death.  “Although  human  laws,” — thus  he  writes 
— “ may  be  sufficiently  wide  in  their  relations  to 
demand  the  highest  intellectual  efforts,  and  suf- 
ficiently important  in  their  effects  on  the  interests 
of  man  to  be  worthy  of  talents  consecrated  to 
the  service  of  God  ; yet  the  divine  system  of 
moral  government,  comprehending  the  mysteries 
of  redemption,  is  infinitely  more  glorious,  and 
may  employ  for  ever,  with  constantly  increasing 
delight,  the  powers  of  the  most  exalted  being 
in  the  Universe.”  He  then  goes  on  to  speak  of 
the  scientific  basis  of  theology  and  of  its  adapta- 
tion in  practice  to  the  wants  of  mankind  in 
so  clear  and  instructive  a way,  as  to  show 
that  already, — for  he  was  a theological  student 


21 

when  he  wrote  this — he  had  explored  his  new 
profession,  its  science  and  its  practice,  with  the 
eye  of  a Christian  philosopher. 

From  the  seminary  at  Yale  College,  he  was 
called  to  the  care  of  the  church  in  Millbury, 
Mass.,  where  he  was  ordained  in  1834. 

During  his  short  career  as  a pastor  here,  (from 
May,  1834  until  October,  1835,)  he  performed  his 
work  to  the  great  profit  and  acceptance  of  those 
who  heard  him.  But  his  health  having  given 
way  under  his  labors,  he  was  led  to  leave  the 
people  who  loved  and  admired  him,  and  to  lis- 
ten to  proposals  from  Dr.  Beman,  of  Troy,  and 
Mr.  Kirk,  then  of  Albany,  to  unite  with  them 
in  a theological  institution  at  the  former  place, 
which  was  to  be  under  their  control.  Here  he- 
spent  the  next  three  years,  and  a little  more, 
chiefly  in  teaching  the  languages  of  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments,  and  in  preaching  as  a colleague 
to  Dr.  Beman  on  Sunday  afternoons.  But  here 
again  his  health  languished,  and  the  Seminary 
itself,  depressed  by  the  commercial  disasters  of 
1837,  was  likewise  enfeebled.  He  therefore, 
early  in  1839,  sought  a temporary  retirement 


22 

from  his  labor,  and  chose  New  Haven  for  his 
refuge,  where  during  some  months  he  gave  him- 
self up  to  study,  particularly  to  that  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  language. 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  this  year,  1839, 
when  the  chair  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Liter- 
ature was  made  vacant  by  the  transfer  of  Prof. 
Goodrich  to  the  theological  department,  that 
Mr.  Larned  was  elected  his  successor  by  the 
Corporation  of  Yale  College.  In  entering  upon 
this  office  he  did  not  deviate  much  from  the 
plan  which  his  predecessor  had  adopted.  The 
same  rhetorical  studies  with  the  Senior  class,  a 
similar  superintendence  of  the  compositions  and 
the  speaking,  an  equal  or  greater  carefulness  in 
preparing  the  students  for  the  Junior  exhibition 
and  for  Commencement, — these  with  lectures  on 
the  old  English  literature  and  language,  occa- 
sionally delivered,  formed  the  staple  of  his  in- 
structions. During  the  twenty-two  years  of  his 
professorship  he  was  diligent  and  zealous  in 
extending  his  knowledge  through  various  fields 
connected  with  his  department.  To  some  ex- 
tent he  studied  old  English  and  Anglo-Saxon 


23 

literature.  The  grammatical  principles  of  the 
German  philologist  Becker,  he  thoroughly  mas- 
tered, and  wrote  a little  work  for  the  purposes 
of  instruction  in  which  they  were  applied.  All 
new  researches  in  Logic  and  Metaphysics  were 
examined  by  him  : and  into  this  department  of 
science  he  entered  with  peculiar  delight.  He 
occupied  himself,  especially  in  the  later  years 
of  his  office,  with  the  study  of  Greek  and  of 
Greek  history,  to  which  his  text-book  for  the 
Seniors — the  oration  of  Demosthenes  on  the 
crown — attracted  him.  Here  the  fruit  of  his 
study  was  a work  containing  notes  on  the 
speech  of  the  great  Athenian,  partly  of  a phi- 
losophical and  in  a greater  degree  of  a rhetorical 
character — a valuable  and  much  labored  book, 
which  he  carried  through  two  editions  for  the 
use  of  his  students,  but  which  his  modesty  pre- 
vented him  from  sending  out  into  the  world, 
until  it  should  more  nearly  reach  the  standard 
which  he  had  in  his  own  mind.  Other  essays 
from  his  pen  appeared  from  time  to  time  in 
the  numbers  of  the  New  Englander, — chiefly 
criticisms  in  the  departments  of  belles  lettres, 


24 

logic  and  politics.  His  contributions  of  this  kind 
amount  to  the  number  of  twenty-seven,  besides 
which,  he  was  one  of  the  editing  committee  of 
that  periodical  from  its  commencement  in  1843 
onward,  and  for  one  or  two  years  its  acting 
editor. 

Amid  such  duties,  and  with  such  additional 
self-imposed  labors,  the  years  of  his  professor- 
ship passed  happily  and  usefully  away,  not 
without  ill  health  in  the  earlier  period  of  his  of- 
fice, but  cheered  ere  long  and  brightened  by 
domestic  love.  The  noiseless  flow  of  duties 
performed  in  unpretending  simplicity  had  a sud- 
den end.  It  was  as  if  a clear  gentle  stream 
that  filled  its  banks  should  all  at  once  pour 
over  an  immense  rock,  and  lose  itself  in  some 
great  lake  or  river.  The  circumstances  of  his 
last  walk  on  which  he  met  his  death,  as  dis- 
covered since  that  event,  are  full  of  a peculiar 
and  precious  interest.  He  was  uncommonly 
systematic  in  his  exercise,  and  had  set  out 
from  home  on  Monday  afternoon  last,  the  third 
of  February,  about  three  o’clock  for  this  pur- 
pose, taking  the  direction  towards  the  house  of 


25 

a friend  a little  out  of  town.  In  the  absence 
of  the  family  the  house  was  under  the  charge 
of  a poor  woman,  in  whose  welfare  and  in  that 
of  her  children  he  had  long  taken  an  interest. 
Here  he  staid  about  half  an  hour,  spending  the 
time  chiefly  in  hearing  the  Sunday  school  les- 
sons which  their  teacher  had  set  them.  While 
here  he  complained  of  a pain  in  the  head,  re- 
marking that  he  had  it  when  he  left  home,  and 
that  it  was  no  better  for  the  walk.  This  head- 
ache was  the  precursor  of  an  attack  upon  the 
brain  which  caused  him,  while  returning  home, 
to  fall  prostrate  upon  the  track  of  the  railroad 
a little  above  Prospect  street,  which  took  away 
his  consciousness  and  power  of  utterance  al- 
most instantly,  and  closed  his  life  about  six 
o’clock. 

We  must  endeavor  now  to  take  a brief  im- 
partial survey  of  the  character,  intellectual,  moral 
and  religious,  of  our  beloved  and  honored  friend. 
The  leading  quality  of  his  mind  undoubtedly  was 
logical  and  philosophical  power — the  power  of 
exploring  the  laws  of  the  human  mind,  as  dis- 
closed by  consciousness,  of  seizing  on  principles, 


4 


26 

of  exhibiting  them  in  a clear  statement,  and  of 
bringing  them  into  an  orderly  method.  It  was 
natural  therefore  that  the  study  of  mental  phi- 
losophy in  all  its  departments  should  have  at- 
tractions for  him,  and  that  he  should  examine 
and  pass  judgment  on  the  new  view's  in  this 
science.  So  also  that  part  of  rhetoric  w7hich 
has  relations  to  the  laws  of  thought  and  to 
language  as  their  exponent  wras  the  portion  of 
the  art  in  which  he  most  excelled.  He  had  a 
sound  judgment  in  regard  to  the  validity  of  ar- 
guments, the  arrangement  of  topics,  the  fitness 
of  style  to  express  the  desired  thought.  On 
the  other  hand  his  aesthetic  power,  although 
naturally  good  and  greatly  cultivated  in  the 
course  of  his  training,  did  not  attain  to  the 
same  degree  of  strength  wdth  the  logical  fac- 
ulty. Yet  he  was  alive  to  the  beauties  of 
nature,  art  and  literature : he  had  a severe, 
simple,  honest  taste  which  rejected  all  false  or- 
nament, all  that  was  useless  for  the  main  point 
and  that  pleased  the  mind  at  the  expense  of 
the  progress  of  the  subject ; he  hated  and  con- 
demned that  vicious  rhetoric  which  aims  at  dis- 


27 

play  instead  of  controlling  and  even  pruning 
the  native  outbursts  of  the  soul.  Hence  his 
taste  as  a teacher  of  Rhetoric  was  of  great  use 
to  the  College,  for  it  had  truth  and  honesty 
for  its  foundation. 

Professor  Larned’s  moral  traits  were  very 
happily  blended,  and  he  was  prepared  by  them 
for  all  the  kindly  interchanges  of  companion- 
ship, friendship  and  love.  If  he  had  had  no 
religious  principle,  he  would  have  been,  most 
probably,  a very  amiable  man,  a kind  neigh- 
bor, a reliable  friend,  an  ornament  and  joy  of 
the  domestic  circle.  On  this  native  stock  was 
engrafted  a humane  and  benevolent  way  of 
judging  concerning  others.  If  his  sense  of  jus- 
tice or  indignation  against  wrong-doing  led  him 
to  hold  any  in  disesteem,  he  was  guarded  in 
his  expressions  of  condemnation,  mild  in  ad- 
mitting pleas  on  their  behalf,  and  far  from  har- 
boring resentment.  He  was  a friend  whose 
offices  were  not  confined  to  manner  and  form, 
but  he  rendered  services  to  others  in  number- 
less ways  which  will  not  soon  be  forgotten. 
In  the  general  intercourse  with  the  world  he 


28 

was  lively,  social  and  interested  in  others.  To 
his  colleagues  in  the  College  faculty  he  ever 
showed  a fraternal  spirit.  In  the  nearest  con- 
nexions of  life,  he  was  all  that  affection  could 
claim  or  desire. 

Professor  Larned  was  a person  of  great  pu- 
rity, simplicity  and  honesty  of  character.  Ev- 
ery thing  base  and  low  seemed  to  be  instinct- 
ively repelled  by  his  mind,  and  to  leave  no 
trace  upon  it.  He  was  true  and  sincere  in  his 
professions,  not  given  to  exaggeration,  but  rather 
undemonstrative,  and  feeling  more  than  his  words 
imported.  He  was  plain,  simple  and  unpretend- 
ing in  his  habits,  tastes  and  judgments  ; the 
remark  which  we  have  already  made  in  regard 
to  his  taste  in  matters  of  style,  will  apply  to 
his  opinions  and  feelings  in  general.  He  was 
unaspiring,  contented  and  humble  ; in  fact  a 
tendency  to  underestimate  himself,  a timidity  in 
carrying  out  plans,  which  depended  on  himself 
for  execution,  prevented  him  sometimes  from 
accomplishing  that  to  which  he  was  fully  ade- 
quate, and  prevented  others  from  doing  him  full 
justice.  He  was  true-hearted  and  faithful,  not 


29 

warped  by  suspicion  or  jealousy,  but  as  trustful 
of  others  as  he  was  true  himself. 

To  these  amiable  and  lovely  endowments  of 
nature,  religion  brought  its  aid,  by  purifying 
them  from  the  corrupt  degenerating  influences 
of  a worldly  life,  enlisting  them  in  her  own 
service,  and  ennobling  them  in  the  companion- 
ship of  spiritual  affections.  We  have  already 
seen  that  in  the  year  1831  there  was  a turn- 
ing point,  clear  to  his  own  mind  and  to  others, 
in  his  character.  He  viewed  this  change  then, 
to  quote  his  own  words,  as  a “hearty  perma- 
nent choice  of  God  as  the  portion  of  his  soul, 
and  of  his  law  as  the  guide  of  his  life.  If  really 
made,  it  was  a change  in  the  whole  moral  man, 
for  it  was  a change  in  that  permanent  govern- 
ing principle  of  the  soul  from  which  all  moral 
actions  derive  their  character.”  From  these 
views  of  spiritual  religion  he  never  swerved. 
His  hopes,  though  he  seldom  spoke  of  himself, 
are  believed  to  have  grown  brighter,  until,  in 
his  last  years,  he  who  was  desponding  and 
tremulous  became  fitted  to  cheer  and  comfort 
others.  His  life  was  pure,  dutiful  and  holy,  not 


30 

marked  during  the  earlier  years  of  his  connex- 
ion with  Yale  College  by  many  demonstrations 
of  pious  feeling  beyond  the  inmost  circle  of 
friendship,  and  showing  steadiness  rather  than 
strength.  But  this  is  what  all  his  friends  of 
the  household  and  kindred  as  well  as  of  the 
academic  fraternity  have  noticed  and  often  spo- 
ken of,  — that  during  the  last  six  or  seven 
years  he  has  manifested  the  life  within  him 
more  and  more,  and  that  he  has  been  grow- 
ing in  the  Christian  spirit.  This  was  seen  in 
the  weekly  meetings  of  the  College  church, 
which  he  regularly  attended,  where  he  brought 
forth  the  treasures  of  a deep-thinking  and  con- 
templative mind,  greatly  to  the  benefit  of  his 
brethren.  It  was  seen  in  his  love  for  the 
Scriptures,  which  he  studied  on  the  Sabbath 
to  the  exclusion  of  other  books.  It  was  seen 
in  the  assiduous  love  with  which  he  supplied 
the  consolations  of  the  Gospel  to  those  who 
leaned  on  him  for  support.  He  was  thus  get- 
ting ready  to  die  without  knowing  it.  His  last 
acts  were  acts  of  Christian  love,  which  would 
never  have  been  open  to  the  eyes  of  the 


31 

world  if  he  had  lived.  “ Thanks  be  to  God 
who  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Je- 
sus Christ.”  He  thought  much  of  late,  and, 
when  religion  was  the  theme,  talked  much  of 
Christ , as  ever  living,  as  being  a continual  pres- 
ence and  life  to  the  Christian.  One  of  his 
last  prayers  in  the  family  on  the  day  before 
he  died  began  with  thanks  for  the  truth,  for 
the  truth  of  the  Gospel.  The  victory  teas  through 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Many  things,  he  said 
lately,  were  dark  to  him, — for  though  he  had 
thought  deeply  on  the  theory  of  religion,  he 
found  many  difficulties  which  he  could  not 
solve — but  he  could  receive  and  hold  on  to 
Christ.  There  was  his  strength. 

Let  us,  my  friends,  be  quickened  into  a better 
and  holier  life,  as  we  think  of  the  uncertainties 
of  our  pilgrimage,  and  the  possible  suddenness  of 
its  end.  Let  those  of  us  who  have  been  his 
companions  in  the  daily  rounds  of  College  duty 
live  closer  to  God,  and  become  more  earnest 
to  promote  the  welfare,  temporal  and  spiritual, 
of  those  who  are  placed  for  a time  under  our 
trust.  Let  the  students  lay  now  in  youth  a 


32 

foundation  of  godliness,  so  that  it  shall  be  no 
matter  how  or  when  they  die,  in  youth  or  age, 
on  land  or  sea,  upon  a bed  of  sickness  or  by 
a sudden  stroke,  since  Christ  is  every  where 
giving  the  victory  over  death  to  his  followers. 
Let  the  happy  and  respected  circle  of  his  rel- 
atives be  his  followers  so  far  as  he  followed 
Christ ; let  them  rejoice  in  all  the  evidences 
of  his  worth,  and  be  getting  ready  for  other 
breaches — that  Christ  may  give  to  them  suc- 
cessively the  victory  over  death.  Let  that  one 
tenderest  and  fondest  friend  be  enabled  to  stay 
herself  on  Christ;  let  her  be  afflicted  but  not 
forsaken,  cast  down  but  not  destroyed.  That 
will  be  her  present  victory  over  death,  and  by 
the  grace  of  the  Lord  she  shall  yet  sing  songs 
of  praise  for  his  mercies. 

Finally  in  all  hearts  let  there  be  a sacred 
union  of  sorrow  and  joy.  He  who  like  our 
deceased  friend,  has  gained  the  final  victory 
over  death  is  the  most  to  be  envied  of  us  all. 


Sit  Jttemoriam. 


Professor  Larned  was  of  a family  distinguished  for 
intelligence,  bookish  habits,  conspicuous  honesty  and 
singular  kindness  of  heart.  As  a boy  he  was  dutiful, 
modest  and  industrious.  He  early  cherished  the  desire 
to  receive  a college  education.  This  desire  seemed  at 
one  time  likely  to  be  disappointed,  but  was  happily 
gratified  under  circumstances  that  were  most  creditable 
to  his  filial  deference  and  to  the  interest  which  his 
early  promise  had  awakened  in  the  mind  of  his  discern- 
ing instructor.*  In  college  he  was  a slender  and  hand- 
some youth,  shy  yet  not  indisposed  to  society.  As  a 
student  he  was  enterprising,  faithful  and  regular,  excell- 


* Mr.  Simeon  Colton,  then  principal  of  the  Monson  Academy,  writes 
thus  to  young  Larned’s  father,  the  week  before  he  entered  college:  “ I 
have  rarely  met  with  a young  man  with  whose  general  deportment  and 
proficiency  as  a scholar  I have  been  better  pleased.  * * * His  mind  is 
of  a high  order  and  if  I mistake  not  he  is  capable  of  being  elevated  to 
the  first  ranks  in  life.  I speak  this  not  as  a matter  of  course,  but  from 
a serious  conviction  of  its  truth,  with  a view  to  show  that  it  is  worth 
considerable  exertion  to  give  him  a complete  education.” 


5 


34: 

ing  most  in  literary  studies.  He  was  especially  promi- 
nent as  a debater  in  the  Linonian  Society,  being  often 
upon  the  floor  in  its  weekly  discussions  in  which  he 
was  stimulated  to  excel  by  constant  encounters  with 
the  keen  wit  and  broad  humor  of  Julius  Rockwell  and 
the  strong  sense  and  elegant  diction  of  Cortland  Van 
Rensselear.  In  his  college  class  he  associated  very 
intimately  with  the  solid  and  logical  David  L.  Sey- 
mour and  the  elegant  and  graceful  Hugh  Peters.  It 
was  his  distinct  and  only  aim  at  that  time  to  be  a suc- 
cessful lawyer — accomplished  in  solid  scholarship,  ele- 
gant literature,  and  graceful  and  ready  utterance.  His 
aims  for  self-improvement  were  higher  than  is  usual 
among  students  of  his  age.  Certainly  his  plans  for  pri- 
vate reading  and  study  were  more  systematic  and  better 
considered  and  the  range  of  his  reading  was  far  wider 
and  more  liberal  than  is  common,  even  with  the  most 
aspiring.  These  plans  he  prosecuted  with  diligence 
and  steadiness  after  he  left  college,  while  teaching  at 
Salisbury,  1ST.  C.  He  returned  to  Hew  Haven  with 
great  pleasure  and  entered  zealously  upon  those  duties 
of  a Tutor,  which  gratified  his  love  of  the  classics  and 
his  interest  in  writing  and  speaking,  and  also  upon  the 
study  of  the  law,  which  fired  the  ardor  of  one  who 
hoped  to  shine  at  the  bar  and  in  public  debate.  Before 
and  after  his  adoption  of  theology  as  his  chosen  pro- 
fession he  steadily  read  and  studied — wrote  and  de- 


35 

bated,  with  the  industry  and  perseverance  of  an  as- 
piring and  liberal  scholar.  While  he  was  a Pastor 
he  was  systematic  in  his  plans,  persevering  in  his 
labors,  sanguine  in  his  hopes  and  greatly  beloved 
as  the  wise  instructor  and  sympathizing  friend  of  his 
flock.*  At  this  time  his  health  began  to  fail  and  the 
series  of  illnesses  commenced  which  greatly  embar- 
rassed his  efforts  and  depressed  his  spirits  for  many 
years.  But  the  papers  and  memoranda  which  he  pre- 
pared during  his  Pastorate  and  his  Professorship  at 
Troy  afford  interesting  evidence  of  an  unflagging  zeal 
in  study  and  the  most  thorough  preparation  for  every 
service.  In  the  same  spirit  and  with  similar  enterprise 
he  entered  upon  the  peculiar  and  trying  duties  of  his 
Professorship  in  Yale  College.  His  sufferings  from 
that  disease  so  formidable  to  the  scholar — chronic  dys- 
pepsia— served  greatly  to  aggravate  a certain  constitu- 
tional timidity  that  was  in  strange  contrast  with  the 
ardor,  frankness  and  openness  of  his  disposition,  and 
the  logical  clearness  and  philosophical  strength  of  his 
intellect,  qualities  which  but  for  this  constitutional 


* A very  intelligent  lady  who  resided  at  Millbury  during  his  Pastor- 
ate, writes  thus  of  him : “ No  Pastor  was  ever  more  admired  and  idolized 
by  his  people.  His  teachings  were  so  superior  to  those  to  which  we 
had  been  accustomed,  his  range  so  much  wider  and  his  culture  so  much 
more  advanced  that  he  gave  an  impulse  to  the  whole  people.” 


36 

defect  would  have  made  him  a bold,  positive  and 
aggressive  instructor.  This  tendency,  increased  by 
disease,  prevented  him  from  doing  justice  to  his  own 
thoughts  and  opinions  and  often  interposed  like  an 
evil  genius  to  take  away  the  courage  which  was  needed 
to  give  weight  to  his  valuable  and  well  considered 
thoughts  and  to  transfer  to  his  pupils  the  sentiments 
and  aspirations  which  glowed  so  fervently  in  his  own 
soul.  He  was  moreover  excessively  sensitive,  being 
by  nature  almost  feminine  in  his  sensibilities,  while 
his  heroic  and  patient  disposition  enabled  him  to  go 
on  quietly  in  any  way  of  duty.  His  manners  were 
often  those  of  a bashful  boy,  while  his  intellect  was 
clear,  solid  and  discriminating  He  carried  this  shy- 
ness and  apparent  self-distrust  into  his  private  and  fa- 
miliar intercourse,  never  assuming  even  with  a single 
individual  though  far  his  inferior,  the  air  of  one  who 
dogmatically  lays  down  an  opinion  or  pertinaciously 
insists  on  carrying  his  point.  But  though  Professor 
Larned  was  not  aggressive  or  demonstrative  as  an 
Instructor,  he  exerted  a constant  and  an  all-pervading 
influence  upon  the  tastes  and  opinions  of  the  students. 
It  was  well  understood  what  were  his  views  in  respect 
to  thought  and  style  and  the  best  methods  of  culture  in 
both.  Whenever  there  was  a disposition  to  transgress 
these  principles,  he  was  present  in  spirit,  if  not  in 
person,  to  detect  and  reprove  the  error,  whether  in 


37 

method  or  in  taste.  It  was  always  most  interesting  to 
notice  how  readily  and  enthusiastically  he  detected  the 
signs  of  literary  promise  in  any  student,  how  closely 
and  carefully  he  watched  the  progress  of  the  supe- 
rior writers  and  speakers  in  every  class,  how  warmly 
he  appreciated  their  efforts  and  how  fondly  he  dwelt 
upon  the  peculiar  merits  of  each.  His  critical  judg- 
ments upon  books  and  writers  were  severe  and  rigidly 
enforced,  and  they  were  valued  by  his  colleagues  even 
more  than  they  were  aware  while  he  lived.  His  cho- 
sen field  of  instruction  was  the  Oration  of  Demosthenes 
on  the  Crown  and  the  Greek,  the  History  and  the  Rhe- 
torical relations  of  this  oration  occupied  his  earnest 
and  faithful  study  for  years.  The  Introduction  and 
Notes  which  he  committed  to  the  press  called  forth  the 
warmest  approval  from  the  lamented  Pres.  Felton. 
The  last  unfinished  sentence  to  which  his  pen  was  ap- 
plied was  written  for  the  final  revision  of  matter  which 
he  had  previously  revised  again  and  again.  The  ser- 
vices which  he  rendered  to  the  college  were  great  and 
constantly  increasing  in  value,  so  that  he  left  his  de- 
partment in  its  practical  operation  far  better  than  he 
found  it.  To  his  vigilant  and  constant  supervision 
is  it  owing  that  Yale  College  still  holds  fast  with  un- 
flinching faith  to  her  traditional  abhorrence  of  “fine 
writing,”  and  the  fundamental  maxim  that  true  elo- 
quence is  not  inconsistent  with  clear  thought  and  sim- 


38 

pie  speech.  The  diligence  and  enterprise  of  Prof.  Lar- 
ned  in  his  private  studies,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  were 
consistent  with  his  early  beginnings.  He  was  ardently 
and  generously  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  college 
and  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  at  all  times  and  in  any 
manner  for  its  welfare.  He  was  public  spirited,  ever 
warmly  interested  in  the  prosperity  of  the  city  and 
prominently  identified  with  important  enterprises  un- 
dertaken for  its  wealth  and  growth.  He  loved  his 
country  — how  faithfully  those  know  who  observed 
how  anxiously  for  years  he  watched  the  signs  of  the 
coming  conflict  while  they  were  distant  and  uncertain, 
and  how  painfully  he  sympathized  with  the  successes 
and  defeats  which  checkered  the  history  of  the  strife 
to  the  very  hour  of  his  death.  He  loved  his  friends 
with  the  warmth  and  hilarity  of  a boy  and  he  clung 
both  to  old  friends  and  new  with  an  unfaltering  and 
unabated  attachment.  He  was  transparent,  confiding, 
of  warm  and  ready  sympathies,  and  it  is  not  surprising 
that  he  was  greeted  in  every  circle  and  welcomed  in  so 
many  households.  He  loved  his  birth  place  and  early 
home,  and  to  it  he  made  glad  and  repeated  pilgrimages, 
never  tiring  of  its  scenes,  but  clinging  to  them  more  and 
more  strongly.  To  his  parents,  brothers  and  sisters 
and  their  families  and  children  he  was  adviser,  friend 
and  lover.  In  his  own  house  he  was  cheerful,  kind 
and  sympathizing.  To  the  relatives  who  were  inmates 


39 

l 

of  the  household,  he  was  counsellor,  play-fellow  and 
friend  all  in  one.  To  his  familiar  visitors  he  was  full 
of  exuberant  life  and  his  greetings  were  warm  and 
hearty.  Even  now  one  looks  for  his  animating  pres- 
ence in  those  deserted  apartments  and  cannot  but  long 
for  his  inspiring  welcome  and  his  cheerful  voice. 

As  a Christian  believer  he  was  intelligent,  enlight- 
ened and  thoughtful,  but  prayerful,  childlike  and  fer- 
vent. Though  always  fixed  in  his  faith  and  most 
exemplary  in  his  life,  yet  in  the  later  years  of  his  life 
his  piety  became  more  outspoken,  his  trust  in  Christ 
more  tender  and  truthful,  and  his  anticipations  of 
heaven  for  himself  and  those  whom  he  loved,  more 
vivid  and  spiritual.  He  stood  watching  and  waiting 
for  his  Master,  and  to  him  we  doubt  not  was  at  once 
fulfilled  the  blessing  pledged  to  “that  servant  whom 
his  Lord  when  he  cometh  shall  find  so  doing.”  Though 
his  summons  was  sudden  and  most  distressing  to  the 
stricken  and  sorrowing  of  his  household,  to  the  college 
and  the  community,  yet  to  himself  it  was  a blessed 
fulfillment  of  the  desire  of  the  Apostle,  “Not  for  that 
we  would  be  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon,  that  mor- 
tality might  be  swallowed  up  of  Life!” 

Noah  Porter. 

Tale  College,  March,  1863. 


40 

My  Dear  Mrs.  Larned  : — 

You  have  already  learned  that  when  our  nearest 
friends  are  taken  away  from  us,  we  do  not  come  at 
once  to  a full  knowledge  of  the  change  which  has 
been  wrought.  Our  first  feeling  is  that  of  loss.  We 
miss  the  departed.  We  miss  the  step,  the  voice,  the 
smile,  the  act  of  kindness,  the  word  of  counsel,  and 
what  is  more  than  all  else,  the  presence.  But  after  a 
time  we  begin  to  become  accustomed  to  our  loss,  and 
are  less  frequently  startled  by  a sudden  realization  of 
it ; and  the  sounds  and  sights  which  once  made  com- 
plete the  harmonies  of  our  every  day  life  and  gave  it 
its  cheerful  brightness,  begin,  against  our  consent  even, 
to  lose  a little  of  their  first  distinctness,  and  sadly 
threaten  to  fade  away  more  and  more  in  the  long 
course  of  years.  But  we  need  not  lament  this  una- 
voidable necessity  of  our  nature,  for  that  which  is  mate- 
rial will  in  time  elude  us  somewhat,  in  spite  of  our 
love.  We  need  not  lament,  I say,  for  we  have  a grand 
compensation.  We  find  indeed  that  we  no  longer  now 
listen  for  the  voice  of  our  friend  or  look  for  his  cheer- 
ing presence  in  the  body;  but  we  also  find,  to  our 
surprise  perhaps  at  first,  that  while  we  have  lost  the 
earthly  form  and  have  come  to  the  full  realization  of 
that  loss,  we  have  been  recovering  the  friend  himself, 
— that  he  has  put  away  his  earthly  habiliments  and 
has  returned  to  us,  and  has  become  and  will  henceforth 


41 

ever  be  to  us  a part  of  our  deepest,  our  most  real  life. 
He  is  not  exactly  what  he  was  before,  for  he  cannot 
partake  with  us  in  our  earthly  occupations,  nor  coun- 
sel us  concerning  our  earthly  plans;  but  yet  how 
plainly,  but  gently,  does  he  bring  to  our  souls  the 
divinest  heavenly  counsels  and  comforts.  He  helps  us 
to  make  light  of  earthly  trials  and  to  strengthen  our 
souls  with  faith  and  prepare  them  for  the  great  usher- 
ing-in  which  awaits  us.  Thus  time,  which  took  away 
our  friends  and  seemed  at  first  to  leave  us  alone  in 
our  grief,  soon  brings  them  back  in  a purer  attire 
to  be  with  us  an  ever-abiding  power  and  treasure. 

When  death  seals  up  the  lives  of  the  good  and 
commits  them  to  the  safe-keeping  of  mindful  hearts, 
does  it  not  always  leave  more  than  it  takes  away? 
Does  not  the  undiverted  eye  within  now  see  what  the 
outward  eye  never  saw  so  steadily?  They  once 
walked  at  our  side  in  something  of  the  beauty  of  a 
heavenly  spirit, — the  beauty  of  truth  and  sincerity, 
of  love,  of  faithfulness,  of  faith,  that  faith  which  gave 
earthly  acts  a touch  of  heaven.  Have  these  gone 
down  into  the  darkness  of  the  grave?  There  is  a 
natural  body  and  it  perishes,  but  the  graces  which 
adorn  the  spirit  live,  not  only  with  the  departed  but 
for  the  survivor  also. 

I did  not  think  of  writing  thus  when  I took  up  my 
pen,  but  was  designing  to  say  a few  words  respecting 


6 


42 

Mr.  Larned  as  I bad  observed  him.  in  his  every  day 
life  at  college.  You  know  that  he  was  my  near  and 
only  neighbor  in  the  Lyceum,  where  he  spent  a large 
portion  of  his  time  in  his  college  room.  That  was 
his  place  of  labor.  And  he  had  the  spirit  of  labor. 
There  was  no  disposition  to  idleness  in  him.  Useful 
and  worthy  industry  was  in  a measure  the  expression 
of  his  life.  Still  he  was  very  social.  It  heightened 
his  enjoyment  of  his  own  labors  to  awaken  the  in- 
terest of  others  in  them.  You  know  how  intensely 
he  occupied  himself  with  his  department  of  instruc- 
tion, how  he  labored  on  his  Demosthenes , how  he 
studied  and  investigated  the  nature  of  The  Sentence , 
and  wrote  and  re-wrote  on  the  subject.  But  all  this 
did  not  diminish  his  interest  in  his  friends  and  in 
passing  events.  I shall  never  forget  with  what  en- 
thusiasm he  used  often  to  burst  into  my  room  to  an- 
nounce some  important  news  and  to  give  expression 
to  his  own  views  or  hopes  connected  therewith. 

If  any  one  should  ask  me  what  was  the  chief 
achievement  of  his  life  here  as  a professor  I should 
say  that  it  was  his  success  in  teaching  the  fundamental 
and  most  important  rules  of  style, — the  rules  which 
all  are  capable  of  learning  and  practising.  He  might 
have  aimed  at  more,  but  he  might  thereby  have  accom- 
plished less.  But  he  who  teaches  class  after  class  of 
so  large  an  institution  as  this  how  to  write  logically, 


43 

that  is,  to  write  with  unity,  harmony  and  clearness, 
and  thus  with  more  or  less  of  strength,  who  impresses 
the  whole  college  with  the  feeling  that  no  amount  of 
rhetorical  ornament,  however  beautiful  in  itself,  can 
compensate  for  a violation  of  these  principles  of  style, 
that  no  composition  has  any  great  merit  unless  the 
writer  can  give  a logical  analysis  of  it  and  show  the 
bearing  of  each  part  on  the  main  proposition,  has 
really  accomplished  a great  deal  for  the  department 
of  rhetoric.  Indeed  one  might  almost  say  that  he  has 
accomplished  enough,  for  he  may  almost  feel  sure  that 
the  student  will  do  the  rest  for  himself,  each  according 
to  his  own  gift;  for  what  he  has  learned  will  be  of 
the  first  importance  to  him,  whether  he  is  to  be  poet  or 
orator,  metaphysician  or  essayist.  Mr.  Larned,  with 
great  singleness  of  view  apparently,  laid  hold  of  this 
as  the  most  useful  result  of  rhetorical  instructions,  and 
he  met  with  success  in  his  efforts  to  secure  it.  He  had 
great  contempt  for  rhetorical  display,  and  the  body  of 
the  students  sympathized  with  this  feeling. 

But  I will  not  write  more,  although  I fear  I have 
given  you  no  new  thought.  You  knew  your  dearest 
friend  better  than  any  one  of  his  colleagues  did,  how- 
ever deep  the  sympathy  which  they  claim  in  your 
abiding  sorrow. 

Thomas  A.  Thacher. 

Yale  College,  March,  1863. 


44 

Dear  Mrs.  Larned  : — 

My  impressions  of  Mr.  Larned,  as  he  appeared 
from  day  to  day  in  his  own  home,  are  altogether  pleas- 
ant. His  cheerful  equanimity  at  once  occurs  to  me  as 
a marked  trait.  Although  naturally  sensitive,  he  seem- 
ed established  in  his  self-control — never  giving  way  to 
little  disturbances  of  temper,  from  which,  probably,  few 
men  in  their  own  households  are  wholly  exempt.  It 
is  difficult  to  think  of  him  as  using  the  language  of 
impatience,  so  contrary  would  it  be  to  his  habit  and 
principle.  As  far  as  possible  from  being  stiff  in  any  of 
his  ways,  there  was  yet  something  truly  dignified  in 
his  every-day  demeanor  at  home,  owing  to  this  quiet, 
unvarying  self-control.  He  was  above  indulging  petty 
feelings  of  any  sort.  The  vivacity  of  Mr.  Larned  was 
another  delightful  trait.  When  free  from  labor  and 
care,  he  entered  with  lively  sympathy  into  present 
things  and  little  things.  His  freshness  of  feeling  lent 
a singular  charm  to  his  manners  and  conversation. 
Hone  of  us  can  forget  his  hearty — almost  boyish — 
laugh,  whenever  there  was  anything  to  call  it  forth. 
His  talk  was  often  humorous  and  playful ; in  particular 
with  young  people,  whom,  if  he  endeavored  to  aid,  he 
would  also,  without  endeavoring,  amuse.  The  benev- 
olent character  of  Mr.  Larned  appeared  in  his  conver- 
sation, especially  in  his  entire  abstinence  from  censo- 
rious observations  and  from  unnecessary,  even  if  well- 


45 

founded,  fault-finding.  All  comments  of  this  character 
he  invariably  discountenanced.  Whenever  conversa- 
tion took  this  turn,  passing  beyond  an  innocent,  hu- 
morous notice  of  men’s  faults  and  peculiarities,  he 
either  by  silence  or  by  some  other  method,  suggested 
a change  of  topic.  In  fact,  Mr.  Earned  was  not  only 
perfectly  genuine,  as  free  from  all  affectation  ; but  he 
was  also  a thoroughly  good  man.  He  could  bear  the 
severe  test  of  intimacy  ; for  daily  intercourse  with  him 
had  the  effect  not  to  diminish,  but  continually  to  aug- 
ment, the  respect  which  one  entertained  for  him.  The 
sterling  virtues  of  his  character  shone  forth  more  and 
more.  One  felt  that  he  was  a man  to  be  trusted, — a 
faithful  man  in  every  relation  of  life,  and  no  where 
more  so  than  within  the  circle  of  his  own  household. 
He  was  one  for  the  heart  of  her  whom  he  loved  most, 
to  rest  upon,  with  no  shadow  of  misgiving  lest  his  soli- 
citude and  tenderness  should  for  a moment  fail.  The 
religious  character  of  Mr.  Earned  appeared  to  grow 
out  of  deep  and  enlightened  convictions,  and  was 
therefore  utterly  free  from  everything  artificial.  He 
had  reflected  upon  the  subject  of  religion  long  enough 
to  define  in  his  own  mind  the  metes  and  bounds  of  his 
own  possible  knowledge,  and  this  occasioned  that  mix- 
ture of  clear  and  bold  convictions,  with  avowed,  hum- 
ble ignorance,  which  was  manifest  to  all  who  knew 
him  well.  Mr.  Earned’s  want  of  self-confidence  has 


46 

often  been  remarked  upon.  But  there  may  be  danger 
here  of  misapprehension.  He  had  a kind  of  self-confi- 
dence— a firm  and  manly  confidence  in  the  judgments 
of  his  mind  upon  any  subject  to  which  he  had  devoted 
study.  He  was  not  shaken  by  the  dissent  of  other 
persons.  In  alluding  to  the  Christian  excellence  of 
Mr.  Larned,  it  is  natural  to  recall  the  part  he  took  dur- 
ing the  last  years  of  his  life,  in  the  Friday  evening  re- 
ligious meetings  of  College.  On  these  occasions,  his 
remarks,  which  must  have  been  uttered  generally  with- 
out premeditation,  doseribed  the  breadth  of  his  mind, 
the  strong  grasp  he  had  upon  principles,  and  his  power 
of  expressing  valuable  thought  in  an  earnest  and  ef- 
fective style.  No  one  could  witness  his  animated  and 
impressive  manner,  as  he  warmed  with  his  theme,  and 
spoke,  as  if  borne  forward  by  a deep,  strong  current, 
and  not  feel  that  he  might  he  a very  eloquent  man. 
Had  he  chosen  a different  career,  or  had  he  been  less 
deficient  in  a certain  tact,  which  together  with  his  sen- 
sitive nature,  prevented  him  from  appearing  much  be- 
fore the  public,  I am  certain  that  he  would  have  ex- 
erted a wide  and  commanding  influence.  Probably 
his  professional  employment  heightened  a natural  ten- 
dency to  be  over  critical  upon  his  own  performances  ; 
so  that  he  composed  with  labor,  and  though  a solid 
and  able  writer,  his  published  essays  are  an  insufficient 
index  of  his  powers.  It  would  be  an  easy  and  a grate- 


47 

ful  work  to  dwell  upon  the  excellencies  of  our  departed 
friend,  but  the  loving  recollection  of  those  who  knew 
him  best  and  therefore  respected  him  most,  will  vividly 
retain  them,  until  the  reunion  takes  place  in  the  many 
mansions  of  the  Father’s  house. 

George  P.  Fisher. 

Yale  College,  March,  1863. 


Yale  College,  February  ?th,  1862. 

Mrs.  Larned  : — 

The  Senior  Class  unwilling  to  intrude  unwarrant- 
ably upon  your  grief,  feel  that  their  intimate  relations 
with  Professor  Larned  give  them  a claim  to  make  this 
expression  to  you  of  their  earnest  sympathy;  to  men- 
tion to  you,  who  can  best  appreciate  their  feelings,  their 
own  deep  regret  and  sense  of  loss ; and  to  acknowl- 
edge to  you,  who  can  best  understand  its  justice,  their 
admiration  of  his  character  and  acquirements.  Their 
loss  has  been  sufficient  to  give  them  an  impression  of 
your  own  ; their  regret  is  not  only  for  their  own  loss, 
but  more  widely  because  another  consistent  Christian 
Teacher  has  gone  out  of  the  world.  To  them  he 
seemed  an  accomplished  scholar,  a successful  worker 
and  thoroughly  a Christian  gentleman ; who  while  he 
instructed  them  in  the  learning  of  his  own  mind, 
taught  them  the  wisdom  of  virtue  by  the  attractive- 


48 

ness  of  his  own  example.  They  desire  to  express  to 
you,  therefore,  their  serious  sympathy  and  regret ; and 
to  assure  you  that  as  the  value  of  his  teachings  can  be 
but  opening  to  them  now,  so,  as  they  grow  older,  they 
will  ever  have  new  reason  to  treat  his  memory  most 
tenderly. 

Oar  Class  in  selecting  us  to  communicate  these  sen- 
timents to  you,  Mrs.  Larned,  give  us  the  opportunity 
to  express  for  ourselves  again,  our  sense  of  the  import- 
ance to  us  of  Professor  Larned’s  instruction  and  ex- 
ample, our  personal  gratitude  for  his  constant  kindli- 
ness and  our  sincere  affection  for  his  memory.  Esti- 
mating him  as  we  do  we  cannot  fail  to  have  the  sin- 
cerest  sympathy  for  you ; feeling,  however,  none  the 
less  that  one  who  so  carefully  dedicated  himself  to 
Christ,  could  only  have  gone  willingly,  as  he  could 
only  go  rightfully,  wherever  He  should  most  profit  by 
him. 

Yery  truly, 

Edward  B.  Coe, 
William  P.  Ketcham, 
Bichard  Morse,  and 
Franklin  McVeagh, 

for  the  Senior  Class. 


49 

The  funeral  services  of  Professor  Larned  took  place 
Thursday  afternoon,  Feb.  6th,  under  the  direction  of 
his  friend  and  associate,  Professor  Thacher.  His  col- 
leagues with  their  families  assembled  at  his  house  at 
2 o’clock,  and,  after  a prayer  offered  by  Professor 
Fisher,  accompanied  his  bereaved  relatives  with  the 
remains  to  the  Center  church.  Messrs.  E.  H.  Bishop, 
William  W.  Boardman,  Edward  C.  Herrick,  Dennis 
Kimberly,  William  H.  Russell,  Joseph  E.  Sheffield, 
Thomas  R.  Trowbridge  and  Henry  White,  acted  as  pall- 
bearers. As  the  procession  entered  the  church  Mr. 
Stoeckel  performed  a voluntary  on  the  organ  on  themes 
from  Elijah, — the  Trio:  “Lift  thine  eyes,  0 lift  thine 
eyes,”  &c.,  and  the  Choral,  u Cast  thy  burden  upon  the 
Lord  and  he  will  sustain  thee.” 

After  the  singing  of  the  hymn 

“ Why  should  our  tears  in  sorrow  flow,” 
to  music — a Prayer  by  Zollner — passages  of  Scripture 
were  read,*  and  a prayer  was  offered  by  Professor 
Porter.  The  next  hymn  : 

“ Let  saints  below  in  concert  sing,” 
was  sung  to  a choral  by  Yogler  and  was  followed  by 
the  sermon  by  President  Woolsey. 

The  hymn  after  the  sermon : 

“ Give  to  the  winds  thy  fears,” 

* John,  xi,  21-26.  2 Cor.,  v,  1-9.  1 Thess.,  iv,  13-18. 


7 


50 

was  read  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Fitch  and  was  sung  to  the 
tune  of  Gorton  (Beethoven). 

While  the  procession,  which  was  now  increased  by 
the  students  of  the  College,  in  the  order  of  the  classes, 
was  leaving  the  house,  a funeral  march  by  Beethoven 
(opus  26)  was  given  by  the  organ. 

At  the  grave,  after  the  body  had  been  lowered  to  its 
resting-place,  the  benediction  was  pronounced  by  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Bacon. 


“ Why  should  our  tears  in  sorrow  flow, 
When  God  recalls  his  own  ; 

And  bids  them  leave  a world  of  wo 
For  an  immortal  crown  ? 

Is  not  e’en  death  a gain  to  those 
Whose  life  to  God  was  given  ? 

Gladly  to  earth  their  eyes  they  close, 
To  open  them  in  heaven. 

Their  toils  are  past,  their  work  is  done, 
And  they  are  fully  blest : 

They  fought  the  fight,  the  victory  won, 
And  entered  into  rest. 

Then  let  our  sorrows  cease  to  flow, — 
God  has  recalled  his  own  ; 

And  let  our  hearts,  in  every  wo, 

Still  say, — ‘ Thy  will  be  done  !’  ” 


51 

“Let  saints  below  in  concert  sing 
With  those  to  glory  gone  : 

For  all  the  servants  of  our  King, 

In  earth  and  heaven  are  one. 

One  family  we  dwell  in  him, 

One  church  above,  beneath, 

Though  now  divided  by  the  stream, 
The  narrow  stream  of  death ; 

One  army  of  the  living  God, 

To  his  command  we  bow ; 

Part  of  the  host  have  crossed  the  flood, 
And  part  are  crossing  now. 

Some  to  their  everlasting  home 
This  solemn  moment  fly  ; 

And  we  are  to  the  margin  come, 

And  soon  expect  to  die. 

Lord  Jesus,  be  our  constant  guide ; 
And,  when  the  word  is  given, 

Bid  death’s  cold  flood  its  waves  divide, 
And  land  us  safe  in  heaven.” 


“ Give  to  the  winds  thy  fears ; 

Hope,  and  be  undismayed ; 

God  hears  thy  sighs,  and  counts  thy  tears, 
God  shall  lift  up  thy  head. 

Through  waves,  and  clouds,  and  storms, 
He  gently  clears  thy  way ; 

Wait  thou  his  time:  so  shall  this  night 
Soon  end  in  joyous  day. 

Still  heavy  is  thy  heart  ? 

Still  sink  thy  spirits  down  ? 

Cast  off  the  weight,  let  fear  depart, 

Bid  every  care  begone. 

What,  though  thou  rulest  not  ? 

Yet  heaven,  and  earth,  and  hell 
Proclaim,  God  sitteth  on  the  throne, 

And  ruleth  all  things  well !” 


52 

Reviews,  &c.,  written  by  Professor  Larned. 

For  the  Quarterly  Christian  Spectator,  Vol.  IY : — 

Sketch  of  the  Life  of  Mr.  Amos  Pettingell. 

For  the  New  Englander: — 

Yol.  I.  Dorr’s  Rebellion  in  Rhode  Island. 

I.  Rev.  J.  Perkins’  Residence  among  the  Nestorians. 

II.  Henry  Clay  as  an  Orator. 

II.  Annexation  of  Texas. 

II.  Shall  we  vote  to  perpetuate  Slavery  ? 

IV.  Whateley,  Mill  and  Tappan  on  Logic. 

V.  Discourses  at  the  Inauguration  of  Presidents  Everett  and 
Woolsey. 

VII.  The  English  Reviews  and  the  French  Revolution. 

VII.  Sanitary  Surveys. 

VII.  The  Slave  compromises  of  the  Constitution. 

VII.  Lieutenant  Lynch’s  Expedition. 

VIII.  Hugh  Miller. 

IX.  Gilfillan’s  Bards  of  the  Bible. 

IX.  Life  Letters  and  Remains  of  Thomas  Campbell. 

IX.  Plank  Roads. 

IX.  Z.  Campbell’s  Age  of  Gospel  Light. 

X.  Longfellow’s  Golden  Legend. 

X.  Life  and  Letters  of  Hon.  Joseph  Story. 

X.  Life  and  Letters  of  Niebuhr. 

XII.  The  Bards  of  Scotland. 

XII.  Lieut.  Herndon’s  Exploration  of  the  Valley  of  the  Amazon. 
XII.  Gurowski’s  Russia  as  it  is. 

XIII.  Sandwich  Island  Notes. 

XIIL  Autobiography  of  Rev.  William  Jay. 

XV.  Negro  Citizenship. 

XVIII.  Sir  William  Hamilton’s  Lectures  on  Metaphysics. 

XVIII.  Constitutional  History  of  Athenian  Democracy  : — 

Also  a large  number  of  brief  Reviews  and  Notices  of  books  in  all 
the  volumes. 


“ A 

vSf&afcSL  Jo  1 g 

2_  9010 


the  GETTY  CENTER 

library 


